Departed
by accioclairebear
Summary: What happens in the afterlife  Lily's POV
1. Prologue

Where do you go when you die? That seems to be the main question of the living. Nobody wants to die, but some are curious. Still, hardly anyone is willing to die just to figure out what death is like – we're perfectly content living our miserable lives because death might be even worse than what life is. In death, we can only presume that we're alone. And if we're not, we're still separated from the living.

Death could be numbness. It could be nothingness. But it could be so much more than living ever was. With several options for death, how can we know that it's something we don't want? How can we know death isn't better than life?

So that's why I was so surprised that Voldemort, the most powerful and evil wizard I had ever lived to see, was so afraid of death. And since what follows death is a mystery, it seemed he was more scared of the unknown than of death itself. But what if death was almost like living? What if the dead were still among us, invisible, solitary figures shadowing the living, grasping onto something they no longer had, afraid of slipping away completely?

But there has to be something more. Death follows life, just as surely as spring follows winter. Is there anything that follows death? It's something different, something the living cannot comprehend. We know that death happens, but is there anything after that? Living, surely, cannot be all. And death cannot be either.

To me, death is something that I view with apprehension. Of course, contemplating the fact that I will no longer be living one day is somewhat odd. It's hard to know what death will bring except that it will take me away from those still living who remember me until memory of me is gone. Then, I would truly would be dead. Death is not something that I dread or that I look forward to. If death is worse than life, it is inevitable that one day I will die, so I do not attempt to flee from time. If death brings greater joys than life ever could, then, surely, death will be the same if I live to be old?

But if there is anything that ties me to the living, that lures me away from death, it is love. When you love someone, you don't want to leave them. If your loved ones no longer had you because you were dead, wouldn't you have never died, then? Would it matter at all if death was paradise?

How can I possibly leave this world when I have a son to take care of? A husband to love? How could I possibly leave them behind when I love them so much and cannot fathom anything – life or death – without them?

**A/N: I got bored one day and came up with this. I know, not much, but this is only the prologue :)**

**And in case you couldn't tell, it was in Lily's POV. So? What do you think? Should I continue? **


	2. Chapter 2

It was like falling through a veil. One moment, I was breathing, living, and the next, I was falling softly through a veil, almost relived that I didn't have to live anymore. That I didn't have to worry anymore. I was free.

Then I remembered Harry. And I remembered James. Surely, both of them were dead. James hadn't even had his wand with him; he must have died instantly. And without anyone there to protect Harry, Voldemort must have killed him.

As much as it was a relief, it was torture. I had no idea where James and Harry were. I had no idea where _I _was. It seemed as if I was nowhere – there was mist swirling about, and only mist. It was solid enough to keep me from falling, but if I tried to hold it, it slipped away.

And that was exactly what I was doing; slipping away. Soon, I would be completely gone and wouldn't know who I was anymore. Soon, I wouldn't even remember anything. Soon, I would be nothing. So I tried to hold on to the mist. I held on for Harry. I held on for James.

And after an immeasurable amount of time that could have been seconds, minutes, or hours, the mist started to become solid. I found that I was resting on a hard floor. Objects were forming out of the mist, but before I could see what they were, they melted away.

I looked down at my body; I was wearing a pale blue shirt and plain white slacks. I had never seen this outfit before.

The mist was still forming objects, and they were starting to stay. I recognized grass underneath me, and I stood up. Trees became solid, I could see the wide sky above me, and the sun was peeking out from mountains several miles away.

It appeared that I was in a valley; grass and wildflowers swirled beneath my feet and wind tugged at my hair.

Just as I began to wonder where I was, I saw him. James.

* * *

When I was alive, I always pondered different scenarios of my death. What would be like to die? Would it be painful? Would I disappear immediately or stay in the world, lingering like a shadow? But most frequently, I wondered what my family would do. What would my sister and parents and friends think of my death?

But when I went to Hogwarts, I stopped having these thoughts – I was too busy learning how to be a perfect witch. It didn't matter what wars raged outside of the castle walls – I was safe, nurtured, abd cared for when I was at Hogwarts, and I simply did not want to think of how dangerous life would be once I graduated.

If someone had to die, it would be me. But is was a selfish thing. If I died in place of someone I loved, I wouldn't have to mourn anyone. I could be free from such torment and everyday grief. Because I couldn't imagine a single day without my sisters, I chose my own death so I wouldn't have to grieve them – they would have to be sad that _I _was gone. _I _was dead. I didn't have to be sad, but my loved ones did.

It backfired. At first I thought it was selfish, forcing all of those who cared for me to mourn, but once I experienced the sadness for myself, and knew all of those people were mourning, each tear was a million tears for me. Each pang of sadness broke my already shattered heart until it was nothing more that a fine, useless powder that, no matter how hard it tried, it was incapable of pumping blood through my lifeless body.

And maybe it hurt me even more, in death, since I was mourning everyone who mourned me. I wished that I wasn't the cause of their pain. I wished that they could know I loved them all. I wish I didn't miss them. Instead of grieving for one person, I was grieving for everyone.


End file.
